A Jaunt Down Memory Lane
by Craft Rose
Summary: During her morning jog around the neighbourhood, Hermione Granger runs into Draco Malfoy. So begins their friendship turned romance.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: Welcome! **

Hermione double knotted the laces on her trainers and continued her morning jog. It was bright, smacking early. There was no one out, apart from her elderly neighbours and their caretakers. Admittedly, she didn't live in the liveliest neck of London, but she preferred the quiet to the hustle and bustle. That in mind, she carried on from the block wherein her apartment building was located, to the local park.

It was a beautiful morning. Had it not been for their late night, her boyfriend might even have joined her. She left him at home, snoring, with a small note to explain where she had ventured, as he never seemed to remember.

"Pardon me, miss —"

Mid-way through her third lap, Hermione turned. Leaves skirted around her. Trees swayed. A swift breeze rippled through the park and through the hair that had fallen loose from her ponytail. Startled, she plucked the music device from her ears, causing the spunky Beatles number to hum in the background. Her eyes bounced from the leaves to the man standing in front of her.

"Sorry for the disturbance, but I've somehow managed to —"

His words cut short, in perfect conjunction with the hitch in her throat.

She gaped.

Dressed head to toe in black, with his white blonde hair tousled from the breeze, and what looked like an award winning Great Dane unleashed and by his side, stood the last man she expected to find.

"Granger," he simply said, unperturbed if not for the twitch of his lip. "Fancy seeing you here."

"I live here," she replied indignantly.

His eyebrow arched. "You live in the park? Surely the life of an Auror isn't _so _destitute."

She grimaced. "I live in the area."

"Brilliant," he smirked. "Tell me, Granger…what is there to do here, in the armpit of England?"

Her eyes narrowed. "I _was _in the middle of a jog before you so rudely interrupted me."

His lip quivered with laughter. "Is that what that was?" he asked. "Looked more like an Andean flamingo mating call, to me…"

"Only _you_ would know what that looks like," she snapped back, bitingly.

"Well, yes," he nodded. "I witnessed it not a moment ago."

She pursed her lips. "I'd rather resemble an Andean flamingo than be the creepy man at the park."

"_Andean flamingo mating call_," he corrected. "And not a successful one, at that."

"I seemed to lure you here just fine," she countered, eyes wide as she realized what she'd said. She looked desperately to the Great Dane. " Er — and who do we have here?"

Malfoy shifted his attention to the canine, using a gloved hand to stroke the animal's Harlequin coat. Only then, did the Great Dane waver from its grounded, statuesque posture. "_This_ is Bishop Faraday."

"Bish —" Her voice cracked with amusement. "Did I hear that correctly?"

Akin to her mocking tone, the man glared at her. "My brother of seven years named him."

She stilled her laughter. "You have a brother?"

"Yes, of seven years." His tone was curt. "Have you gone deaf?"

Hermione ignored the question and made motion to pet the animal, before stopping. "Er — may I?"

Bishop Faraday's owner made no attempt to halt her. She took this as her cue and moved closer to the big dog, stroking it calmly. Tongue flapping and tail wagging, the Harlequin breed Great Dane seemed to love the attention. Hermione laughed, leaning back an inch or two, as he had a lick. Though enormous, he was a stunning creature. It seemed his owner took excellent care of him.

"I bet that's the most action you've had since the Yule Ball," Malfoy remarked, smirking as she wiped the moisture from her cheeks and nose.

Hermione rose from the paved walkway. "You _do _know pets have to be leashed in this park."

"Did you hear that, boy?" he asked, looking down at the canine. "Granger wants me to tie you down and strip you of your freedom. _Evil_ witch, I know…"

She glared lazily at him. "Since when do you care about animal rights?"

"I care about Bishop Faraday's rights," he corrected.

"Of course."

Malfoy studied her, his attention falling to her feet. His face screwed. "What the bloody hell are those?"

She followed his line of vision. "Trainers…?"

"They have holes in them," he informed her. "You can't possibly have used them that much. Just look at those chicken legs."

Hermione gaped at him. "You certainly haven't matured one bit."

His smirk smoothed out into a dashing grin. "If that's your way of telling me I haven't aged — _I know_."

"Oh for heaven's sake…" she groaned.

"So tell me," he continued, testing her patience. "What _is _the old gang up to these days, hmm? Hold on…let me guess." He tapped his chin in thought. "I'm thinking Potter and Weaselette tied the knot and are now expecting their twelfth brat; complete with red hair and terrible fashion sense. As for Weasel King, my guess is that he has resorted to a life alcoholism and opiates, drowning his worthless existence into bottle after bottle, to cope with the fact that his one true love is, in fact, a lesbian, and wants nothing to do with him."

Hermione stared blankly at the man in front her. "Do you have _any_ semblance of a life, or…?"

"I'm right, aren't I?" he asked, wiggling his eyebrows. "I always knew there was something indicative about that hair."

She sucked in a short breath, frowning at him. "One day, I'm sure you'll tire of being a superficial prat."

"No more than you'll tire of being a self-righteous bint," he retorted, ending with a smile. "Oh come now, Granger. Haven't you missed this? Take a jaunt with me down_ memory lane_."

"By the way," she snapped. "You're wrong. Harry and Ginny broke up ages ago, and I'm to marry Ron in July."

His lip twitched. "Marry?"

"Yes," Hermione confirmed, folding her arms assuredly. "I would invite you but…"

"I have plans that month," he passively inserted.

She snorted. "That entire month?"

Malfoy nodded. "Haven't you heard? I'm an important man with important things to do."

"Oh, but of course_. _I would expect nothing less from someone who's loitering in a park at six o'clock in the morning on a Tuesday," she mockingly added. "What _are _you doing here anyway?"

"If you must know," he enunciated. "I have an appointment with the local groomer."

"Surely you can afford a proper salon…" she teased.

"Bishop Faraday's usual groomer is on holiday," he explained, glowering at her. "Had I known this town to be filled with such common riffraff, I would never have taken the recommendation seriously."

"Oh, right_…_" she gathered. "You're lost. That's why you stopped me."

He said nothing.

Hermione scratched the top of her head. "Sod it," she decided. "I'll take you to the groomer. For Bishop's sake, not yours."

"His _name_ is Bishop Faraday…" Malfoy corrected.

She paid him no mind, choosing instead to focus on the Great Dane.

Bishop sprung on all four legs, following her as she led him and his owner down the main road. The town was quaint, with a population smaller than that of Ottery St. Catchpole. But she preferred quaint. It was nice being able to come home to a calm, peaceful town after a full day at the office. Never having to worry about the odd criminal. Being able to sleep through the night, without waking up to police sirens. It was a nice life.

"So your parents had another child?" Hermione asked, tossing a sideways look at Malfoy.

"My father did."

She tensed up a little. "_Oh_." Her face blanched. "I — I had no idea."

"Neither did I," he added, focused on the road. "Until a year ago."

"Er —" Her stomach clenched. "Do you — Do you want to talk about it?"

For a moment it appeared he wasn't going to say anything, and then his breathing changed. "I just — I never imagined my father would do such a thing. He's a difficult man, sure, but I would never have pegged him to be an adulterer," he voiced. "…and my mother, she's devastated."

"I'm so sorry," Hermione said to him. "What about your brother? Does he understand the situation?"

"He does," the man confirmed. "It's hard not to understand, when the other kids bully you."

She sucked in a sharp breath, heartbroken. "But he's only seven…"

"I know. It's terrible," he uttered, holding the conversation a moment longer, before looking at her with a strange twinkle in his eyes. "I'm completely kidding, by the way…"

Hermione froze, mid-step.

It didn't register at first, but when it did…

"You incorrigible little —" She swatted his chest. "That was _not _funny!"

Malfoy ducked, hissing with laughter. "Glad to see that saviour complex is still firmly in tact," he snorted, dabbing at the corners of his eyes. "Say, Granger…haven't you learned never to trust a Slytherin?"

"Pardon me for trying," she snapped.

"Oh, come now…"

Hermione ignored him, again focusing on Bishop instead of his owner. Had it not been for the Great Dane, she would have abandoned Malfoy on the main road and carried on with her jog. She quite liked the mild-mannered canine. Most dogs she knew would have launched at whomever attacked their owner, but this one seemed rather affectionate towards her.

"I think Bishop Faraday likes you," Malfoy inserted, hands in his pockets as he raced to match her stride.

She rolled her eyes.

There was no chance in hell she would engage him in conversation. Not after what he'd done.

"So," he continued, crossing the street with her and his dog. "Are you going to ignore me the whole way there? If so, I'll take the time to explain a few things. I lied about the adultery, but not the bit about having a brother. I do have one. He was assigned to me as part of the big-brother-little-brother programme and I swear to you, even though there is no biological relation, he's quite convincing."

Her ears perked, when she heard the bit about the programme. She wouldn't have guessed Malfoy to be the charitable type, but she figured it was part of his sentence. After all, he had participated in Death Eater activities during the war. There was no telling the amount of work he had to do in reparation.

"His name is Edric," Malfoy continued. "If that interests you at all."

"Poor Edric," she said. "I can't imagine what he must go through, having to see you on a regular basis."

"I think you can," the man disagreed. "We went to school together. Don't you remember?"

Hermione responded to this with an animated shudder. "I've spent the past eight years trying to forget."

"Trying and failing," he winked, delivering a swift arch to her brow.

The brunette shook her head and forged onward. If she didn't know any better, she would have perceived that last comment as flirtatious. Sick to her stomach, she was glad when arrived at their destination. It was a square building with panelled white walls and an adorable hand-painted sign to indicate the services. An old post office, repurposed into a grooming facility.

"Here we are," Hermione declared, coming to a gradual halt.

Malfoy stood beside her, eyeing the building with a note of disapproval. "Are you sure this is the place?"

"Quite," she affirmed, nodding to the sign. "Says so over there."

He grimaced, glancing to his left where Bishop was sat. "Sorry, mate. Looks like you'll have to endure the lower end until Johanna is back in town."

Hermione looked to the Great Dane, smiling. "Oh, he doesn't mind. Do you, Bishop?" The dog panted at her excitedly, leaping to her side and giving her face another lick. "Good boy!"

'If you don't mind, I'd like to have my dog back," Malfoy requested, sharply.

She laughed, playing around for a few seconds until sending Bishop up the front porch. She then turned to his owner and scratched the side of her head. "Well, it was interesting seeing you again…I think."

"Oh, don't get too sentimental," he teased. "I'll be back tomorrow."

Hermione gaped at him. "Er — what?"

Malfoy tossed her an obvious look. "I have more than one dog that needs grooming, Granger."

Her face blanched a little. "Well, then I suppose it's good you now know how to get here on your own."

"Ah, yes…" he nodded. "But I need a place to walk my dog, as well. You don't happen to know where I can find a place like that, do you? A park, perhaps."

She grimaced.

The man chuckled in response. "See you tomorrow," he winked. "Memory Lane. Six o'clock sharp."

On pure instinct, she corrected him. "It's called Kettleburn Park."

By this point, he had ascended the steps and knocked on the front door. Someone moved on the other side and with one look back at her, he smiled. "Memory Lane. Six o'clock sharp," he repeated. "I'll bring my Icarus Fly Kicks, and you bring those….trainer things."

Hermione swallowed, rather hard. She had a couple things to figure out.

1. Find out what "Icarus Fly Kicks" are, and whether they're illegal and/or explosive.

2. Find another park.

**A/N: Hope you liked it! **


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: Chapter Two! **

The next morning, it was raining.

Most seniors took it as a cue to pass on their morning exercise, but Hermione quite liked the rain. Ron, on the other hand, did not. As with most mornings, he opted to wrap himself in the duvet like a bean burrito and sleep in until noon. But, it was no matter to his future wife. One thing she liked more than rain, was having an hour of complete and utter solitude each morning. Being an Auror meant her life was filled to the brim with chaos and danger, and enough office gossip to make her hair poof out like a mushroom cloud. Suffice it to say, she valued her morning jogs, the way Ron valued dinnertime.

Immensely.

That in mind, Hermione popped her earphones in and drowned the world out to the shuffle setting on her music device. The first track to kiss her ears was 'Time of the Season' by The Zombies. Her cheeks turned an adorable shade of pink, as she took a moment to recall the first time she heard that particular song.

It was eight years ago, in the backseat of the flying Ford Anglia. Ron borrowed the car from his father, to take Hermione out on their first date as a couple, but…a few seconds of that song combined with the haste of ones adolescent loins left them an hour late to their dinner reservation.

She smiled inwardly, having the sudden appetite for dessert.

But, the moment her surroundings shifted from the doorstep of her flat building, to the glistening greenery of Kettleburn Park, an unwelcome reminder dawned on her.

Hermione froze, ducking behind one of the trees.

"Oh, don't bother…" he voiced from around the corner. "I'd have to be blind as a bat _not_ to notice those abominable trainers from _at least_ a mile away."

Her mouth stretched into a grimace. On instinct, she tilted her head downward and examined her worn, weathered trainers. Perhaps it _was_ time for a new pair…

From around the corner, a tall dishwater-eyed Slytherin came into view, holding an umbrella to protect his suit and smoothly coiffed hair from the rain. Again, he was outrageously overdressed for a walk in the park, but that was beside the point. She noticed, rather quickly, that he had no companion by his side.

"Morning," he greeted, with a whisper of a smile on his lips. "Have you eaten?"

Hermione opened her mouth to retort, mentally prepared for whatever antagonizing remark he shot her way. "Er —" Her words fell short. "Pardon me?"

Just in the nick of time, the storm clouds intensified, showering the cobbled streets, thatched roofs and treetops in heavier, harder, larger drops of rain.

"Have you eaten?" he asked again, bringing her attention back to him. "Because I haven't, and I have another ten minutes to kill before it's time to collect Barnabas from the groomer."

Hermione snorted. "Barnabas? And I thought _my_ parents were cruel."

"Ha ha…" he blearily inserted. "So what do you say? I was thinking we could head into that little cafe down the road, and have some breakfast."

"_You_ want to have breakfast with _me_?"

"I don't see why not. You're here…I'm here…" He shrugged, looking at her with a curious glint in his eyes. "Plus, it's the least you could do to protect your hair from the rain. I mean, honestly…"

She narrowed her eyes at him, having convinced herself for a second there, that he could quite possibly have changed. "As much as I'd love to prolong _whatever this is_ for another ten minutes, I'm afraid I'd rather stay out here in the pouring rain."

"Oh, come now, Granger…How in Merlin's name am I to function in this wretched town, without the company of the future Mrs. Ronald Weasley?"

Something about the latter end of his declaration disturbed her features. In a blink, she folded her arms and glared at him, back to her usual disposition. "It comes to no surprise that you have an incredibly flawed method of persuasion."

"You don't say…"

She kept at it. "First, you insult my trainers. Second, you insult my hair. Third, you insult the town I happen to call home."

"Oh, but that's our dynamic, isn't it? Salazar knows the sort of conclusions you would draw if I were to, let's say, compliment your dedication to exercise, or admit that I quite like talking to you without the added constraints of our opposing social circles."

Something swirled in her stomach. "You're missing the point."

"_Fine_," he sighed, impatiently. "You continue to be the smartest witch I have ever known; despite the hair and the equally abominable fashion sense, the sight before me isn't a horrible one to behold; and —" He leaned forward, sniffing her. " — you smell nice for someone who spends the majority of her time with Ron Weasley."

She blinked. "Er — thanks?"

"So how about breakfast?" he asked again, peeling back the proverbial barrier one layer at a time. "My treat."

Hermione opened her mouth and then closed it. A strong wind traveled through the park, unsettling the leaves and branches, and forcing her under his umbrella, as the rainfall swayed in a different direction.

"Fine," she decided, rather tersely. "Just one coffee. Understood?"

"Understood," he almost-smiled.

_**To be continued! **_


End file.
